Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Note: This is an academic paper, not an opinion piece, except
for the conclusion. Having been a part of this industry for over a period of five years, I have made it an honest and in-depth analysis, to give you an elaborate idea of the Indian commercial publishing industry.

Introduction
The year is 2004. A 30 year old investment banker, having just finished writing
a novel on his college life, is going door to door of publishing houses in old
Delhi. He has been rejected outright by twelve of them. They say that his
writing style is too simplistic, unliterary, and some even call it bad; the
topic he’s writing on lacks the broader societal landscape; some question his
credentials and background to attempt writing a novel – his prized investment
banking career doesn’t add value to his fledgling writing CV, and some
conveniently choose not to reply at all. But he is persistent. He befriends the
owner of a small publisher based in Daryaganj, who, seeing him in a hapless
condition, takes mercy and gives him a shot. They estimate the number of copies
he would sell, aware of the fact that in India, it’s only the elite who read
works in English – the writings that are literary and descriptive; their
bookshelves adorned with internationally acclaimed stalwarts like Salman
Rushdie, Amitav Ghosh, Vikram Seth, and Arundhati Roy, their writing style rich,
layered and elegant unlike his. Nevertheless he counts relatives,
friends, and friends of friends on his fingers. The number adds up to, after a
lot of optimistic extrapolation, slightly less than one thousand. The book is
released with the first print run of one thousand. One year later, his book is
the highest selling novel of India and its author, Chetan Bhagat, a phenomenon.
What’s the catch here? That he is from IIT and his book breaks many myths about
an institute of formidable repute? (Viswamohan) Or is it because he celebrates
the loss of virginity among his characters (Mishra), which is unconventional
and appeals to rebellious youngsters?

Nine years have passed since. The Indian publishing industry has been a
dumbstruck witness to all its prior predicted trends and speculations being
given a toss by one man with no background in writing, no godfather in the
industry. Four other novels and a work of non-fiction, besides myriad newspaper
columns and Bollywood scripts, have come from his pen during this time, all of
them bestsellers which touched a million copies mark within a few years from
release. In 2008, New York Times called him ‘the biggest selling English
language novelist in India's history’. In 2010, Time magazine named him as ‘one
of the 100 Most Influential People in the World’. It looks like a life out of
dreams, a rags-to-riches story and no wonder, in this country which believes in
hero worship, Chetan Bhagat becomes one. But unlike the magnanimous
international adulation that he has received, he has grown to be one of India’s
most hated public figures for many reasons, his success included.

For many who are his
fans, he is a cult, an icon, a role model; a regular invitee to their college
guest-lectures where, as he writes on his website, “his stellar education and
diverse professional background make him the ideal person to share his thoughts
and experiences” (chetanbhagat.com). He is someone who is approved of by
parents, even those who can’t read in English as they are impressed by the very
same IIT/IIM degrees in his author profile which earlier didn’t seem useful for
his writing resume. For some, he’s like the superhero that had shown some spark
when it arrived into the literary scene, but instead of saving the sinking ship
with his popularity and reach, he has been instrumental in plummeting it deeper
into the sea of mediocrity. For others, he never arrived on the literary scene
– he remained an epitome of mediocrity. (Dasgupta)

It’s difficult to come
up with one conclusion among these diverse and extreme opinions, each of which
stands true in its own right. Therefore through this essay, I intend to analyze
Chetan Bhagat’s impact on Indian publishing and readership, rather than
analyzing his writing. This paper shall examine three aspects of Bhagat’s
impact: (a) the birth of a massive young readership and its effect, (b) the
emergence of commercial fiction and its quality, and (c) writing as a career
post-Bhagat.

Readership: The birth
of the middle-class Indian reader

The reason Bhagat
attained unprecedented success is because his work struck a chord with
middle-class young India, the India that never read Indian writing in fiction,
that held and still holds English in awe and fear, which belongs to the tier 2
and 3 cities of the country . Even to this day, almost ten years since his
first book appeared in the market, his books don prime space in all the Wheeler
bookstalls of even the smallest railway stations – from Guwahati to Ranchi to
Kanyakumari. Kavita Bhanot, an erstwhile literary agent, relates in Forbes, “I
have known young people who don’t usually read, reading his books. Most
recently, I met a boy on the bus from Palampur to Delhi, who would not normally
read, and was not so comfortable in English, readingThe Three Mistakes..., slowly,
but enjoying it, and proud too, to be reading a book in English.” This pride is
what Chetan Bhagat delivered to the middle-class Indian reader, which has made
his following loyal and huge with over two million fans and followers on
Facebook and Twitter. Suman Gupta’s research paper sheds light on this trend:

Two surveys give some indication of the character
and attitudes of this reading constituency: a CSDS-KAS (de Souza et al 2009)
survey of social attitudes among Indian youth, and a NBT-NCAER (Shukla 2010)
Indian youth readership survey. The CSDS-KAS 2009 survey uses data collected
from around 5,000 respondents, aged between 14 and 34, more or less evenly
distributed across the country with some booster samples from areas with high
population density (towns); and the NBT-NCAER 2010 survey covered 3,11,431
literate youth (13-35 year olds), across 207 rural districts and 199 towns in
India. The latter estimates the youth population of India to be 459 million
(38% of the total), of which 333 million is literate. Of the literate youth,
this survey indicates, about 25% read books for pleasure, relaxation and
knowledge enhancement; and English is the preferred language for leisure
reading of 5.3% of those (Hindi is for 33.4%, Marathi 13.2%, Bengali 7.7%). By
these figures, the number of readers of an extraordinarily successful English
language commercial fiction book is unlikely to exceed 4.41 million.

This survey was taken in 2009; five years after Bhagat’s arrival and the
figures are whopping. 4.41 million constitutes a huge readership, something
that India had not seen before. The author Samit Basu puts it rather
succinctly, “[Chetan has] shown how wrong Indian publishers are when they
explain away their failures to sell Indian fiction to large numbers of Indians
by saying there are no readers. Of course there are readers; Chetan's managed
to tell them they exist.” Bhagat’s first bookFive
Point Someonecontinues to be
the most landmark book in his literary career, being the highest selling book
of India till date. The book describes the other side of the reputed IITs and
was an immediate hit in the audience. For the first time, an aspirant or
someone who’s grown up listening to the huge hype built around the brand of IIT
could vicariously become a part of its life. Ever since its inception, IIT’s
entrance examination JEE has been considered to be world’s toughest examination
(The Hindu) with over half a million aspirants from all across the country,
mostly from middle-class India, undertaking it each year. Bhagat’s first book,
dedicated to his alma mater IIT Delhi, busted all the myths related to the IITs
in a gripping story. It worked in favour of Bhagat in two ways. First, it
inducted a non-reader curious about the IITs into reading, and later hooked him
with its simple language, which the reader could very well identify with.
Chetan Bhagat, with his illustrious degrees and later on fame as an author,
became a role model for aspirants.

To cater to the mass market and
middle-class audience, the publisher Rupa had carefully tweaked around with the
price point. All of Bhagat’s novels have been priced at an affordable 95 rupees
(now it’s 140 rupees), which makes it possible for the young small-town
high-school going student to buy and read what it is to be inside the IITs, to
work in a call center, to have a love marriage, and how to make it big despite
not getting into the IITs. As a bonus, the low price deters piracy, since at
such low cost the profit margin for a pirated book becomes insignificant.

To keep the reader engaged, Bhagat
implemented a lot of lessons he learnt during his IIT-IIM days. Along with the
media buzz, he happens to be the first author to have his own website, his
first books contained teasers of the upcoming books, he initiated the concept
of selling signed copies at a premium price (chetanbhagat.com), and spent
rather lavishly in the PR campaign of his books with grand launches roping in
stalwarts like Shashi Tharoor to inaugurate his book. Though Bhagat claims
himself to be destiny’s child (Dasgupta), having not anticipated his stupendous
success before launch and counting prospective readers on his fingers before
the release of his first book, Ankita Mukherji, a former assistant editor at a
big publishing house which rejected Bhagat’s manuscript, writes in her
autobiographical article with the Open Magazine:

[In the slush pile[1],
there] came a professionally bound manuscript with perfect layouts and
typefaces. Even more interestingly, the first page had a CD stuck on it which
said ‘Read Me’. Feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland, I followed
instructions and up popped a multi-hued PowerPoint presentation. Swiftly and
efficiently, it introduced me to the author (a hot-shot young investment
banker) and his book (a coming-of-age novel about friends at one of India’s
best-known colleges). But what came next absolutely took my breath away. A
marketing strategy that would ensure the book became an instant bestseller: low
pricing and buy-backs, tie-ups with the said academic institution and its
alumni (all of whom, the author felt, would immediately want copies of his
book). This author was clearly no pushover. If only he had written his
manuscript with half the dedication he had put into his marketing plan!

Clearly, Bhagat’s success has not been serendipitous but a carefully calculated
work, targeted to capture the mind-share of people from all across India.

Publishing: Emergence of commercial
fiction

Chetan Bhagat is often credited with
single-handedly revolutionizing the commercial fiction industry in India. When
newspapers and magazines rightfully adorn him with sobriquets like The
Paperback Messiah (Perur), The Game Changer, The Trendsetter, The Golden Goose
(Sarkar), it’s but natural for him to comment on the era before him. Novels before
Bhagat, as he himself says in an interview with NDTV, “targeted the elite and
most often Western audience, and were written to win prizes” (Perur). There was
no culture of commercial fiction and even if there was, it was frowned upon and
there was apathy towards such writing (Bose, Forbes).

One of the first successful commercial
novels before Bhagat was Anurag Mathur’sTheInscrutable
Americans(Rupa), published
in 1991, but as Saugata Mukherjee, publisher of Pan Macmillan India notes,
“[Mathur’s] success was not anywhere close to Bhagat’s phenomenal rise.” The
possible reason that prevented Mathur’s book from pulling off a Bhagat on the
Indian publishing scene can be aptly summed up in the words of Amitabha Bagchi,
author ofAbove Average (2006,
Harper Collins) –a book
about a student’s life in IIT. He says, in an interview with Forbes, “The
interesting thing is thatTheInscrutable Americans,
a publishing phenomenon in its time (and still selling well today) was not
able, at the time, to goad the rest of the publishing business into being more
aggressive the wayFive Point
Someonewas. Perhaps that is
a product of the rise of a media culture that Bhagat was able to navigate
successfully.” Bhagat’s success in this view is the result of his being at the
right place at the right time with the right product.

Since Bhagat’s arrival, the Indian
publishing industry has witnessed drastic changes. The first being how it
transformed the definition of the word bestseller. Typical Indian ‘bestseller’
sold between 3,000 and 5,000 copies; a true success is one that remains
in print for years, with reprints of 2,000 copies or so every nine or 12 months
(Tharoor). Bhagat’s novels, with sales of a staggering million copies a year,
sparked off a trend that made publishers escalate the bestseller slab to a
minimum of 10000 copies. The expanding market saw a burgeoning of myriad
publishing houses with the passing years. As researched by Gupta:

The story of commercial fiction publishing is part
of a larger story about the growth of the Indian publishing sector. In terms of
absolute figures this is an impressively large and diverse sector. According to
Pathak (2011), 12,375 publishers were registered with the ISBN India agency at
the end of 2007, with an estimated 90,000 titles being produced each year, and
with the industry showing an optimistic growth estimate of 30%.

The stories of independent publishing houses bring together another astonishing
saga. Most notable of the local proprietary publishing houses is Srishti which
immediately capitalized on Bhagat’s opening of the market. When Tushar Raheja,
a fourth year student of IIT-Delhi in 2005, was searching for a publisher for
his manuscriptAnything for
you, Ma’am, an IITian’s love story, as the subtitle blatantly says, Srishti
immediately published it with a similar MRP of 100 rupees (flipkart.com). The
book was an instant bestseller. What followed was the creation of the hundred
rupee fiction market and new publishers like Mahaveer and General Press jumping
in to grab a piece of cake. It seemed as if every engineering college student
with a girlfriend scribbled his love story, aspiring to be the next Chetan
Bhagat, with titles likeOf
Course I Love You (2008),Oops!
I Fell in Love! (2009) etc. authored by engineering students flooding the
market and selling like hot cakes. Srishti churned out bestsellers after
bestsellers, its raw manuscripts most often unedited, shoddy, in Hinglish,
didn’t bother the mass market readers, rather it connected well with them since
it spoke to them in their language and there was no need of a dictionary
whatsoever while reading. There is an upward trend not only in readers but also
authors. Srishti’s proprietor Jayant Bose notes, “Earlier we would get 100 book
proposals a year, now we get around 100 book proposals a month,” (DNA). This
alarming rate of budding writers owes itself directly to Bhagat who made novels
an affordable and readable commodity. Most often these new lad-lit writers,
after reading Bhagat et al, think that they too can write like Bhagat and
driven by the live example of Bhagat’s success, hope to make it big. The new
publishing houses only help proliferate their novels in the eager consumer
market.

Giants
like Penguin and Random House after keenly watching the post-Bhagat period for
over three years shed their snobbery and entered the commercial fiction market
to wrestle with established Indian players like Rupa and Srishti. Penguin came
up with Metro Reads, which promised to publish commercial fiction books
ensuring Penguin-like quality and Random House brought forth Ebury Press, to
take forward the domain of commercial fiction. Unable to find the next Chetan
Bhagat on their own, they started utilizing their deep pockets and lured the bestselling
authors of Rupa and Srishti with huge advances. Authors like Ravinder Singh,
Rashmi Bansal, Durjoy Datta, Ravi Subramanium, Preeti Shenoy have all been
picked by these big houses.

The
literary industry defined by Chetan Bhagat encountered another phenomenon seven
years after his entry in Amish Tripathi. Amish, hailing from a similar IIM and
investment banking background, owes it to Bhagat for opening up the market for
unliterary fiction, but Amish had to create his own readership. His books,The Shiva Trilogy, were not
Bhagatish – pertaining to love, relationships, youth, career, but rather
mythological fiction, and have been a welcome change in the published genres.
Amish, unlike Bhagat, is more open about the role of marketing in making his
books take India by storm. In his interview with Sunil Sethi in NDTV’sJust Books, he says, ‘Books
don’t sell on their own. I know so many books that deserved to be bestsellers,
but lack of marketing didn’t make them become one.’ Amish has taken book
marketing to the next level, having invested heavily for marketing his first
book with posters and free sample first chapters at all the major bookshops
before launch. For his books, he even launched the first video trailer of a
book in India and followed it up with a music album with Times Music for book
promotion (HT). Courtesy Amish, writers nowadays are not shying away from
giving credit to marketing, and even publishing houses are coming up with
innovative strategies to promote books. Penguin India, to promote Durjoy
Dutta’s new bookSomeone Like
You (2013), tied up with Barista and offered a free book with two
cappuccinos. Thanks to their association with big houses, authors like Bhagat
and Amish with contestable literary talents are now a regular presence at
prominent literature festivals among veterans like Pico Iyer, Gulzar, and Amitav
Ghosh.

Spin-off
Writers & Writing as a Career:

Writing,
no more, is a vocation pursued only by the gifted litterateur, but by anyone
who can make the mass readers of India hooked on to their words. Most of these
authors write ‘Bhagatized’ fictionon common themes – love, sex, college,
education, politics, mythology, and cricket – the essentials of Chetan Bhagat
mass market fiction. Bhagat’s readers are not only loyal to him, but to
‘Bhagatized’ fiction, which has given birth to numerous young lad lit[2]
writers in India.

In
a country where full-time writing was a dream not achieved by even many
critically acclaimed writers, these young writers have become money-making
machines, with their novels having shifted into the category of fast-moving
consumer goods (Soofi). The royalties earned by commercial fiction authors in
post-Bhagat era is unprecedented source. Author Ravi Subramaniam bought a BMW
from the royalties from his debut book,If
God Was A Banker date, which sold around 2.65 lac copies in a year. For a
two book deal, Subramaniam received a whopping 1.25 crores rupees advance from
Penguin India (Forbes). Durjoy Datta cashing in on his popularity from his
extremely popular books co-founded his own publishing house Grapevine along
with Sachin Garg, his friend and a bestselling author. Amish recently received
a five crore advance for his next series from Westland.

The
publishing industry is a big money game, and writers who have found their
audience are now living not only comfortable but lavish lives with their
royalties (Outlook). The trend is upwards and writing market in future is only
going to expand and commercial fiction writers are only going to flourish. Even
seven years after his arrival, Bhagat single handedly turned away the slump in
fiction sales in 2011. Anyone who has ever snorted contemptuously at Chetan
Bhagat should know that the “steep growth” in the fiction market in the second
half of 2011 is credited to the sales of his latest novel,Revolution 2020. (Pal)
Penguin India had experienced 500% sales growth in the same year and the Indian
reader market could now compete with the entire middle-east (BookSeller). The
upward trend doesn’t only affect the commercial fiction writers but also
literary fiction writers, since a lot of people who get inducted into reading
via commercial fiction are now migrating to the literary fiction. A literary
novel like G. D. Roberts’ Shantaram (2003) has sold over 5 lac copies (DNA), though
it took around five years to achieve that target, but still it’s a positive
trend.

Conclusion:
Indian publishing industry, in the times to come, is going to look back at the
Indian publishing history in two different eras: pre-Bhagat and post-Bhagat.
Chetan Bhagat, irrespective of public opinion, continues to be a boon for the
publishing industry for India has never been swept to read like this before,
the sales have never been so astounding. New authors following his footsteps
are only benefitting out of it, and same holds true for the old authors who
could capitalize on the widening market. Some of the readers who start with
Bhagat’s fiction migrate to literary novels with time, one step at a time, from
Bhagat to Amish to Adiga to Rushdie. Besides, for the first time in the history
of Indian publishing is Bollywood keeping keen watch on popular books, getting
intricately involved with the publishing industry, after the blockbuster
success of3 Idiots(2010). Unswerving critics blame
Bhagat for the corruption of the English language by using Hinglish and
colloquial words, but Bhagat claims that he is not a Hinglish writer but an
English writer (NDTV), which is true. Apart from a casual Hindi cuss-word
sprinkled once in a while in his books, there isn’t any Hinglish usage. As long
as the editorial arm of the publishing house take care to make his writing
grammatically sound and less colloquial, Chetan Bhagat shall have no reason to
worry.

In
terms of writing, however, Chetan Bhagat has been slammed to be a bane by many
critics like Shougat Dasgupta etc. Since it has not been analyzed in this
article, we aren’t in a position to draw any conclusion here, but his effect
can definitely be discussed. He has created a readership no doubt, but at the
same time he has developed a tawdry taste of reading among them, which has been
made inflexible because of redundant plots (Forbes). Bhagat readers want to
read more of Bhagatized fiction, as can be seen by following the bestsellers in
the market, which often are laden with clichés and melodrama. The audience
which graduates to consume literary fiction after reading Bhagat is still
little, nowhere close to the size of his market. Moreover, to understand the
aesthetics and subtle nuances of literary fiction, it takes an entirely new
conditioning, sensibility, and motivation, which is quite difficult to build.
If this state persists, the huge gap between the mass market and the elite
readers is only going to widen, and Chetan Bhagat will continue to be hated by
critics with literary bent of mind. However with Bhagat’s mass reach and
popularity, he has the power and choice to bridge this gap if he could come out
of his comfort zone and dare to walk on unconventional roads by giving up his
propensity to create a masalamovie-script
out of his every novel, which might adversely affect the size of his
readership, but at the same time would refine, add value by elevating his
audience’s reading tastes. This can happen only if he wishes to become a boon
for writing as well.

[1]In publishing, the slush pile is the set of unsolicited query letters or manuscripts sent either directly to the publisher or literary agent by authors, or to the publisher by an agent not known to the publisher (Wikipedia)

[2]Lad lit is the phenomenon of best-selling books written by men, and bought by lots of men, which tell tales of masculine insecurity in relationships, problems with male identity in the 21st century, and stories which explore the state of play between men and women from an often emotionally confused confessional male perspective. (Britishcouncil.com)

Sunday, November 3, 2013

How many times has it happened that something that you encounter in present transports you to your past, making you nostalgic when you have least expected it?

Rarely, right? Today, that rarity happened with me. I came across an advertisement of the Dabur Lal Tail on the internet and immediately, one of my fondest childhood memories was triggered. Yes, I know, memories being intricately linked to a baby oil is kind of weird, but what should I say? It is about the baby oil, after all. It was the winter of 1998, 30th October to be precise, when my just born cousin Archit was brought home from the hospital, and my nani, maternal grandmother, grabbed him in her arms and before cuddling him or letting anyone fondle him, she declared, 'First he'll get the massage. Only then shall anyone touch him.'

I had never seen Nani being so commanding before and for a while, I remained quite scared and surreptitiously followed her from a distance. She went to the kitchen and came back with a steel bowl half-filled with yellow mustard oil, its sharp smell making me sneeze. I crawled away and sat far off near the window, to breathe the fresh air as I'd vicariously enjoy her delicate massage on Archit's chubby baby-legs which began as soon as she returned. Archit giggled when her hands moved over his tummy, and I urged her to do that once more. She instead chided me for instigating mischief upon the vulnerable Archit and said, 'Tease him when he is big enough to retaliate. Now come, it's your turn now.'

I was dumbstruck. I craved for one such massage; my football-tortured lanky thighs and legs would definitely not have minded some kneading, but the goddamn smell hindered the fulfillment of my desire. My nose hated the odour of mustard and would transform itself into a sneezing machine if I went near and sniffed it. Fearing an unfair comparison with my little brother, who was cool with mustard oil unlike me, I laughed at her suggestion, saying, 'Me? A ten year old "man" getting a massage from Nani? Ha! No! Only kids go for that.' It gave me a false but good opinion of myself. Every morning and evening that followed, I would greedily watch Archit relishing his massages twice a day, bursting into giggles at the end of it every single time, which started becoming a source of great envy.

Two weeks passed and my envy had already peaked. I no more hung around Archit and spent most of my time in front of the TV. It was during one of these evenings when for the first time, I encountered Dabur Lal Tail's advertisement on the television - a mother massaging the little baby with it. At first, it infuriated me. Now that I had stopped being around my little cousin, the wicked God planned to make me feel jealous through the television. The advertisement went on and no matter how much I wished to change the channel, I could not coerce myself to do that. So much for vicarious pleasure! However, when the advert got over, it said something that caught my fancy. It mentioned that it was fragrant, besides fostering height and weight - an absolute need for my lanky body eager to attain early manhood.

Over the next two days, I convinced my family-members why mustard oil was bad for the baby's health and why Dabur Lal Tail was of utmost importance - it was ayurvedic, made up of completely natural ingredients, didn't have synthetic products that could harm baby's skin, besides it ensured better sleep and natural growth. I intentionally gobbled up my prime concern - the fragrant part and desperately waited for the Nani to make a list for the next month's ration, which was done in a few days.

A week later, my legs were getting massaged with the Dabur Lal Tail, and this time my month-old brother Archit was gaping at me enviously, when Nani asked, 'What happened to your manhood?'

Yesterday, while I was walking on the road, a stranger walked up to me and said, 'hi.' I saw him, didn't recognize, presumed him to be a stalker, ignored and whisked off.

A little later, still on the road, a stranger came up and asked for directions. I directed him. He went his way, I went mine.

A hundred meters later, at the turn of the road, a stranger tapped on my shoulder and said, 'Can I have your number? Let's meet sometime.' I got so scared that I ran off.

At last, near the road leading to my house, I met a stranger who came, introduced himself and asked if we could talk to me for a minute. I felt better. The unfamiliarity was broken. We talked for fifteen minutes and later even went for a coffee.

Monday, February 4, 2013

I'm a witness to a radical transformation in myself. With passing time, the word intention is taking precedence over each and every other word that defined my life earlier and I'm getting closer to attain what perhaps is the most important thing in life. Knowledge.

Is it an effect of my journey? Maybe. I don't exactly know. The entire goal behind everything that I'm doing, be it meeting new people, hearing new stories, gaining new perspectives or reading new books is to become a better writer. Anything that doesn't lead me there is a distraction and I find myself aversive to that thing.

I want to learn right now. Learn so much that ten years down the line when I look back, I realize that I invested my prime years of my youth doing things I love, learnings things that would help me in doing things I love better.

The second most important thing that this sudden transformation within me has brought is that it has lowered the hype of things around me. For example, recently I wrote an article for The Hindu, they didn't accept it, despite the fact that it was one of the most heartfelt articles I'd ever written. Had it been my earlier self, I would have gone crazy and hyper with anxiety waiting for their response - and if there had been no response, I would have become frenzied about it because of disappointment. Now, it hardly registers an effect on my mind. Getting that article published doesn't precede my happiness. I would rather be stable and happy, than letting a "thing" affect my happiness.

Elucidating this fact further, recently I got through Young India Fellowship and indeed, it was one of the best things to have happened to me. I was elated, but I was normal at the same time. It was not like "The Only Thing" I have in my life that could make me jump and cry and all that. Even if I hadn't qualified, I would have travelled, maybe started-up a venture, re-applied the next year and be calm about it. I now realize what has happened to me. I have become calmer. No, it's not that things don't vex me. It is more about results not vexing me, because actions still do. I get really irritated with myself if I end up hurting someone emotionally. I get really annoyed if I see someone wasting his/her life out of sheer laziness. But "getting something out of something" has been replaced by a very simple yet powerful word called learning. Everything teaches. Everybody teaches. And I have suddenly started to love learning. Every little or grand ambition can wait, until I have learned enough, because that gives me a faith that yes, I would be able to pursue my ambition in a much better fashion if I'm sufficiently equipped with knowledge.

Think Twice

About Me

A Simple Hello

" I have always felt sympathy and compassion for the kids I see at school walking all alone, for the ones that sit in the back of the room while everyone snickers and makes fun of them. But I never did anything about them, I guess I figured that someone else would. I did not take the time to really think about the depth of their pain. Then one day I thought, what if I did take a moment out of my busy schedule to simply say hello to someone without a friend or stop and chat with someone eating by herself?And I did. It felt good to brighten up someone else's life.

How did I know I did?Because I remembered the day a simple kind hello changed my life forever."